


After Finals

by crieshavoc



Series: The Smile Jar [4]
Category: Orphan Black (TV)
Genre: F/F, Friends to Lovers, Idiots, Slow Burn, ob fics, the smile jar verse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-25
Updated: 2020-12-25
Packaged: 2021-03-10 23:15:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 810
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28325184
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crieshavoc/pseuds/crieshavoc
Summary: After finals, Rachel knows she has a few things to think about. End of fall semester, freshman year.
Relationships: Rachel Duncan/Cosima Niehaus
Series: The Smile Jar [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2061450





	After Finals

“Are you free Friday night?” Rachel asks without looking up from her laptop. Her fingers continue to fly across the keyboard as she puts the finishing touches on her Macroeconomics paper. Her last paper of the semester, in fact.

Cosima glances up, tilting her head in concentration. “What time?”

“Seven,” Rachel begins reading each sentence backwards, slowly, to catch any spelling or grammar mistakes, or a too commonly used word.

“The opening for the photography students is at ten. I promised Sarah I’d be there,” Cosima leans over to grab her coffee mug, placed far enough away from their computers to spare Rachel a panic attack each time her clumsy roommate picks it up.

Rachel nods, absentmindedly brushing her hair away from her face. She needs a haircut desperately, but it will have to wait until after finals. “That’s no issue.”

Quiet pervades the room again, distinct from _silence_ by the tapping of their fingers, the rustling of Cosima’s lab reports stacked neatly on her desk, the slight scrape each time the dreadlocked biology student reaches for her coffee.

Rachel stops to rub at her eyes perhaps an hour later. She leans back in her chair, pushing up onto the back legs, and lets her eyes follow Cosima around the room as she refills her mug from their illegal coffee machine. “When was the last time we saw the RA?”

Cosima pauses mid step, “I have _no idea_. October, maybe?” She laughs, shrugging. Easing back into her seat, she holds up a second mug. “You look like you could use some caffeine.”

Rachel reaches around the laptops, confident by now that Cosima can read the gratitude in the way her shoulders relax with each sip. She doesn’t have to _say_ anything, which is wonderful. Rachel isn’t sure how they fell into such a routine, such an understanding, but they _have_. Rachel likes it. Rachel might _like_ Cosima, but that’s a thought for after finals.

“So what’s happening at seven on Friday?” Cosima puts her feet up on her desk, wiggling her toes around in her socks.

Rachel looks away. “Dinner,” she says it as blandly as she says anything else. Rachel isn’t looking, so she doesn’t see her roommate’s face light up.

“Smile jar dinner?” Cosima sounds excited.

Rachel smiles and they both laugh as she reaches for her wallet. “Yes, I made us reservations at that new Fusion place downtown.” Rachel wants to fuss at her hair again. She doesn’t, but it’s harder than it _should be_ to suppress the childhood habit. (Nervous habit.)

“Whoa, Rach, isn’t that place like, _super_ expensive?” Cosima frowns at her over her mug and their laptops, her face partly illuminated by the glow of her screen.

They turned the lights off at midnight in the hope that one or both of them would be going to bed before dawn.

Rachel stares at her roommate, her roommate who is equal parts _annoying_ and _charming_ and one part _under Rachel’s skin_ for good measure, and smiles again. “Do you have _any_ idea how much money is in that damn jar?”

Cosima’s eyes shift to the glass jar in question. “Not really.”

“It’s plenty for dinner,” Rachel pulls another dollar out of her wallet and stuffs it into the overfull jar.

They both go back to their work.

They shuffle wearily, arm in arm, to breakfast as the sun rises.

Rachel enjoys the briskness of Canadian winters.

Cosima huddles _so close_. Cosima nudges her side.

“Hmm?” Rachel turns her head, relegating the way her heart thuds so earnestly in her chest to the _after finals_ list of things she ought to deal with.

“Are you coming to Sarah’s opening on Friday? After dinner?” Cosima’s teeth are chattering.

“Yes,” Rachel nods, grateful once more than she doesn’t need to _elaborate_ with Cosima. She doesn’t need to _explain_ why she will be attending the photography show of a girl she can barely _stand_ (Sarah doesn’t like _her_ much, either). She doesn’t _need to_ , which is wonderful, because Rachel’s not sure what she would say. She _is_ , but the words sound all wrong and mixed up and the inflections are in the wrong places before she’s even voiced them. Of course she’ll go to her roommate’s friend’s opening. That’s not odd or out of bounds. It’s _not_.

Cosima leans more heavily into her side, shivering.

Rachel sighs, enjoying the way her breath steams in the frigid air. There’s a metaphor to be found, she thinks, in how sometimes all you need is a change in the weather to appreciate breathing deeply, and warmth, and the ease with which they’ve fallen into friendship. It occurs to Rachel to wonder how easily they might fall into something… else. _After finals_ , Rachel promises herself, and she pushes the blossoming thought from her overtired mind.

Rachel’s right side is cold all through breakfast.


End file.
